


Untamed

by LuminousGloom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Animagus, Autumn, Foreboding, Forests, Friendship, Hidden Magic, Love, M/M, Magic, Mystery, Romance, Werewolf, Wilderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-27 19:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21397189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousGloom/pseuds/LuminousGloom
Summary: When Sirius is forced to return to his ancestral home, he finds solace in the forest. Here he encounters danger, mystery, and a strange young man who might make him reconsider his options.Written forWS Games 2019.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59
Collections: Wolfstar Games 2019





	Untamed

**Author's Note:**

> WS Games 2019 - Team Embarkment.
> 
> Thank you the mods for running this fest, and for your great patience! And a big thank you to my wonderful beta readers. Any remaining errors are mine.

_“There’s nothing more frightening - and exciting - than getting lost in a forest. There is a journey towards the light, and you’ve got to go through the dark to get to the light. That’s what the forest is all about.”  
-David Farr_

It’s strange, being back here. 

Sirius does the first thing he always did on his first day back from boarding school: put on sturdy boots and march outside. Down the gravel path he goes, through the rose garden, the last blooms of the season heavy and pale in the fading evening light. He wanders along the edge of the park, past blackthorn hedges and the shadowy topiary. Everything looks just the same. And beyond the walls, the forest looms large and dark, a mysterious and calm presence. Sirius has always found it comforting. 

Before he knows it, he’s climbing over the rusty fence just as he did as a boy, the key to the ornate cast iron gate having been lost in the mists of time. He lands on a soft bed of crumbling leaves on the other side, breathing in the familiar mulchy smell of black earth and rot in the small cemetery. Passing between the graves of his forebears, he touches moss and ancient stone, corroding angels choked by strands of ivy.

‘You be careful now, before you go into those woods,’ old Jago had told him in the car. ‘Folk are saying all sorts is on the loose there these days. Ghosts, and strange beasts. Dangerous things.’

Sirius had grinned at him fondly. People have always been full of tales in these parts, and no one more than Jago – goblins and monsters and magical creatures, evil gnomes that live under trees, their earthen caverns festooned with roots. The roaming spirits of hanged men. Bears, and wolves. Sirius had thought he’d heard a wolf howling once, years ago, when he was a boy.

‘Remember that you’re speaking to a scientist,’ he’d fondly told Jago in the car. ‘Unless you’ve got any evidence, this is nothing but hearsay.’

‘There is plenty of evidence, Young Master Black!’ Jago had rasped darkly. ‘You go into the village and ask people. Lots of them have seen things, and respectable folk at that. Even young Malfoy, the solicitor’s son’s been attacked. Just ask him. If that’s not evidence, I don’t know what is.’

Sirius promised to mention it to Lily – or Police Constable Evans, as she is these days. He’ll speak to her anyway, as soon as she gets off duty. He swings his legs over the low cemetery walls and walks on, into the forest.

The silence seems more pronounced here, even with the wind rustling in the canopy and the odd bird or squirrel scurrying in the undergrowth. Sirius walks at a steady pace, breathing deeply. He loves the familiar scents, green shoots and rotting wood, mushrooms and black earth. A deer might’ve come past here. It’s rapidly getting dark now, but the low light doesn’t bother him. He’s still got plenty of time before they’ll be expecting him back at the house, washed and civilised, dressed for dinner.

And he’s dreading it. It’ll be the reckoning, the aftermath. He’s not yet seen his mother, or his brother – only Jago who fetched him from the station. While he put the car away, Sirius went around to the side of the house to take the back stairs via the servants’ entrance.

Up in his old room, he dropped his case and perched on his bed. Staring at his old things - the carved mahogany desk, and the darkly patterned wallpaper - he felt strangely paralysed. The room seemed to be contracting. He didn’t bother to unpack, lingering instead over half forgotten treasures – an old model boat, his first toy microscope, a squashed rugby ball. Relics from another age.

Four long years away are a lifetime, and London is another world entirely. He’s spent it exploring and discovering. In lecture theatres, in labs and in libraries, he sharpened his thoughts, building up and developing his knowledge. At night the city buzzed and sparkled, bright and astonishing, offering up endless possibilities, and teaching him much about the pleasures available to those willing to pursue them.

He was working hard, and with determination. Strangely, in following his passion he’d somehow even managed to wrangle something approaching respect from his parents. 

Until that official letter arrived, spelling out his doom. Printed on laid paper bearing the university crest, it mentioned intolerable acts - gross indecency, lewd behaviour. We regret to inform you, and so on. Once again, Sirius had proved to be an aberration, an unfit heir, an utter disappointment. 

Hoping he might be allowed to return to his studies after all, he spent a muggy summer losing himself in the delights of the big city. But his personal funds dwindled to nothing, and when his mother’s health suddenly deteriorated, he was summoned back home.

A sharp crack whips through the air, and Sirius freezes. The forest is full of wild boars, roe deer, and game birds. Nothing to worry about really, and anyway he can usually sense any beast a mile off. He listens, carefully tasting the air, but picks up nothing specific. Wandering on, he keeps his steps quiet, avoiding mounds of leaves and dead twigs and branches. Stumbling over a treacherous bramble, he wonders if he might’ve just imagined the sound, when there’s a small bang, followed by a fizzing crackle. And then, a fleeting shape, something white between the trees. 

Straining to make out anything, Sirius climbs the massive, gnarled trunk of a fallen ash for a lookout, and higher still onto the lower branches of a nearby oak. Peering out between the foliage, at first he can’t make out anything much in the gloom. There! It’s a person, ambling along. A young man, about Sirius’ own age. His white shirt looks almost ghostly in the twilight. 

Sirius doesn’t recognise him, which puzzles him. He really has been away for a long time.

Slowing his step, the young man touches the odd leaf here, a branch there, then examines a twig. This isn’t looking for mushrooms. Sirius remembers the old forester showing him how to track deer. A subtle art, that he tried to learn, but then ultimately deemed unnecessary. By the looks of it, this bloke can spot and read the clues left by whatever creature as though they were signposts.

Then he stops, looking about, listening.

Unmoving, Sirius watches from his hidden vantage point. He thinks about calling out, but decides against it. Perhaps he’s been tracking me, he thinks with a start, and keeps very still. He likes the look of the young man, his narrow hips and broad shoulders, his smooth movements, even if he can’t make out his features. 

Sirius wonders what he’ll say when the man spots him, as no doubt he will. Smile at him maybe, and play it by ear…  
A branch cracks in the distance, followed by telltale rustling, something crashing through the shrubbery. Not a boar, or a deer, but something heftier, muskier... Something big, and fast. Sirius pivots slightly, scanning his surroundings, but even from up here he can’t determine what this creature is. Glad that he is well above ground, he wants to warn the man, help him to safety. But the bloke calmly turns towards the commotion.

It’s a _bear._ A hulking great bear, pushing through the bushes. The man takes a single step backwards as the large creature comes to a swaying halt right in front of him, inclining its massive head towards him. Sirius gasps, fiercely gripping the trunk of his tree. He can smell the animal’s thick brown coat. 

Unperturbed, the man smiles. He’s got a thin stick in his hand, like a conductor’s baton, and stretching out his other hand, he gently touches the bear. 

And then he speaks. 

He addresses the bear in a low, pleasant voice. Watching in disbelief, Sirius can’t quite hear any of the words. The bear nods its head, nudging the man’s side. When the man speaks again, asking a question, the bear shifts impatiently, its heavy paws thumping on the forest floor. At the next question, the bear throws its head back and makes a chilling, low sound.

‘Where?’ the man asks sharply, looking concerned.

The bear briefly gets up on its hind legs, standing up straight as though listening out for something. Huffing loudly, it drops back onto all fours and charges off into the bushes, from where it appeared. 

A shot rings out in the distance, echoing in the trees. Startled, Sirius doesn’t move. He swallows dryly, his heartbeat throbbing in his throat. 

Ducking slightly, the young man peers into the trees. He brandishes his baton as though taking aim at something in the distance, and murmurs something. A jet of greenish light issues forth, and sparks shoot from the tip of his stick.  
And moving swiftly, he disappears into the trees.

Watching in disbelief, and feeling a bit queasy, Sirius somehow loses his balance. He crashes onto the forest floor with a heavy thud, unable to stifle a muffled cry. Trembling slightly, he stumbles to his feet. He’s given himself away now, the strange bloke and whatever else is loose in these woods must know he’s here. Sirius looks around, moving out from behind the oak, but there’s nothing there, not a trace. His crumpled suit trousers are covered in dead leaves and streaked with mud. He walks a few steps forward, scanning the trees. A crow caws hoarsely in the distance. The young man is gone. There’s nothing there at all. 

\---

Regulus’ sturdy figure awaits him on the gravel driveway at the foot of the grand entrance steps. Dressed in a sharp three piece, his slicked back hair gleaming in the lamp light, he smokes a cigarette and makes a show of appraising Sirius’ dishevelled appearance with absolute disdain. ‘Ah,’ he sneers. ‘We’ve been wondering where you’d got to.’

‘Well, here I am.’ Sirius says, managing to sound impassive. He’s still shaken up by the bizarre scene he’s just witnessed.

‘You do know no one is supposed to go out there after dark.’ Regulus’ tone is stern, but Sirius can’t help grinning at his little brother’s attempt to look down his nose at him when Sirius still comfortably towers over him. 

‘Jago did mention something.’ Sirius shrugs. ‘But I didn’t believe him.’

Raising an eyebrow, Regulus exhales a puff of smoke. ‘Mother wants to see you. Once you’re halfway presentable, that is.’

‘Right.’ Nodding curtly, Sirius straightens his clothes and stands even taller. ‘Lead on.’ 

Up in her opulent bedroom, their mother is barely breathing, drowning in richly embroidered blankets in her humongous bed. Her face is rigid and drawn, like pale yellow wax. She used to be a formidable woman, Iron Walburga, scaring her enemies into submission. Regulus has given him brief accounts of her health in his letters, so Sirius is prepared, but it’s still a shock seeing her like this. Weak, deflated, unable to berate him. There is no piercing shriek and no hateful tirade listing his many failings, the countless ways in which he continues to disappoint.

‘Three weeks,’ Regulus says in a hushed tone. ‘According to Dr Pumice.’ He does look much older now, more serious and mature, hollow cheeked in the soft candlelight. 

Regulus has been in charge for months. He’s always been keen, started learning the ropes while still at school. Rather than follow Sirius to university, he chose to step straight into the business after.

‘Right.’ Sirius nods, watching as the nurse plumps a pillow and prepares a syringe. 

‘We’ve got things to discuss,’ Regulus says. ‘Come into the office.’

It’s strange, seeing him behind that hefty mahogany desk. Fresh ink in the open inkwell, brand new nibs gleaming in the pen tray. He fixes Sirius with his icy blue gaze, and starts talking about the business. It’s been doing well. Regulus has been steering it carefully, keeping everything running smoothly. The shareholders are going to be very pleased at the next annual meeting. 

Then he gets to the issue at hand. He clears his throat, eyeing him with distaste. ‘Mother would like to see you involve yourself in the company. Be good for you, make yourself useful. Be seen to be working hard. And, you know, make amends.’

‘Amends?’ Sirius can’t help smirking. ‘That’s ridiculous. Things - just didn’t quite go as expected.’

‘As expected?’ Regulus guffaws. ‘I’d say things went entirely as expected. Once again you’ve found yourself unable to restrain your base urges, such as they are. If I’m honest I was surprised you even managed to hold out for as long as you did. You’ve wasted years, when you could’ve got it out of your system straight away, might’ve got yourself sent down in the first term.’ He shakes his head. ‘Indecent conduct. Really? And in line for a first, I hear. Shame.’ 

Sirius shrugs. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he says lightly. It’s too absurd, his little brother attempting to lecture him. ‘All the best families need a bad egg, don’t they? If only to make everyone else look positively virtuous by comparison.’

Regulus chooses to ignore this. ‘Since you lack experience,’ he explains, ‘you’d do better earning some respect first. Try your hand at the business, so to speak, get stuck in. I’m afraid that word will have got round that you - well, why you have returned.’ 

Sirius nods. Regulus will have wasted no time crowing about his brother’s failings. But now is not the time to aggravate him. Anyway, Sirius’ eyes have long glazed over. There’s a bloody bear in the forest! Not to mention...

‘I was thinking we’d assign you to inspection. It’s a good all round job, and it’ll show you’re interested and keen. You’ll be in direct contact with various departments, checking the work, dealing with paperwork. Making sure everything is working as it should.’

Closing his eyes, Sirius takes a deep breath. 

‘Are you all right?’ Regulus sounds irritated. 

‘Fine.’ Sirius sighs. ‘Yes, fine. Whatever you think best.’ He has no interest in the factories, supplies, logistics, sales, in any of it, but he’ll do as his brother asks.

‘Unfortunately I’m tied up in meetings for the rest of the week, but I’ll arrange an official tour of the place in the next few days, so you’ll be ready to start on Monday?’

‘All right.’ Sirius says mechanically, as though agreeing to his own life sentence. Perhaps this really is what he deserves, for being so conceited and reckless, for thwarting his own chances. He pushes back his chair and gets to his feet. ‘If that’s everything, I’ll see you at dinner.’

‘I’m dining out,’ Regulus says haughtily. ‘I’ve told cook you’d be happy with a kitchen supper.’

‘Actually, tell her not to bother, I’m going out myself.’ 

‘Not in this get up, I hope. You are representing the family firm now. You’ll take care to dress, and act, as befits your status.’

Rolling his eyes, Sirius is about to turn to leave the room, but stops himself. ‘By the way. What exactly are people saying goes on in the forest after dark?’ 

‘Oh.’ Regulus pulls a face. ‘Nothing, really. Some say it’s a gang of thieves, others think it’s an escaped convict. People are even talking about ghosts, or highwaymen, or wolves. Wolves!’

‘When did it all start?’

‘Several people claim they got roughed up a bit coming down the Forest Road. That was only a few weeks ago. I’m not sure why they’ve had to come up with wild beasts, or murderers, or mythical creatures. Shunpike lost an eye in a bar brawl just the other week. I expect these characters are out for free drink in return for their harrowing stories. As it is, I’m not convinced there’s anything amiss in the forest at all. Needless to say, you’d be well advised not to be seen roaming around there after dark.’ He gives Sirius a searching look. ‘I did have to tell Mother about - what happened in London. She still has moments of mental clarity, and she’ll want to talk to you. I’m afraid she wasn’t best pleased.’

Sirius snorts. ‘You surprise me.’

‘Sirius.’ Regulus says earnestly. ‘For your own sake, I wish you would make an effort. Try and appreciate,’ he gestures expansively at the room, ‘all this. Embrace our family traditions. Stop pissing about.’

‘Yes,’ Sirius nods solemnly. ‘I’d nothing rather. If only I knew how.’

\---

Sitting in the hot bath, Sirius scowls at the shaving mirror. The razor moves shakily, he can’t seem to steady his hand. It’s only hit him now, like delayed shock, what he’s seen in the forest earlier. Might he have imagined it all? It doesn’t seem real, now. Only, he’s seen it before – that same fizzing crackle, a similar jet of light. A long-standing feature in countless of his teenage nightmares.

He can still see his younger self, barely thirteen, curled up in this very bathroom, feeling sore all over. His head was close to exploding, his limbs ached, and his stomach hurt. There was a horrible taste in his mouth. He’d been sick on the floor. And he wasn’t wearing any clothes. On the rug, in his room, shivering in front of the embers glowing in the grate. He could smell mud, and dead leaves. Mushrooms. A sort of loamy smell, and traces of the carbolic Jago would’ve used on the floorboards.

He’d gathered himself up, glanced at his reflection in the glass. Cut up and bruised, but nothing serious. Perhaps he was running a fever. He crawled into bed and melted into a deep sleep.

After that, smells were constantly overwhelming him. Stagnant water in a puddle, traces of perfume on a lapel, distant woodsmoke on the wind. He could tell when the baker had opened his shop from several streets away, he knew about the dead rat rotting in an underground drain. 

No one knew, of course, that he’d been cursed. That he was a freak now, an abomination.

The nightmare itself had happened in a different part of the forest. He shudders to recall the woman, her eerie, booming voice, her hateful, livid face. The shower of sparks, the strange pain. And later, the deep, horrible knowledge that he only had himself to blame. A bit of a theme, there, Sirius thinks darkly, impatiently shaking out his razor in the milky bath water.

Perhaps he did just imagine the whole thing, he repeats to himself. The razor drags across his cheek, no more hairy than anyone else, see? No one knows, no one need ever know. He’s barely slipped in London, twice in four years is nothing. He’s got himself under control. 

By the time he slips into his fine dinner suit, he’s managed to get a grip and calm down. Perhaps the strange boy really was just an apparition. Or if he in fact is real, he might know something about that awful spectre in Sirius’ past, the nightmare that’s haunted Sirius for over a decade. Perhaps the boy knows what it is she did to him. Or even a remedy. Perhaps Lily knows who the strange boy is.

When he’s out of the bath and mostly dressed, slapping aftershave onto his cheeks and wincing at the stinging scent, there’s a knock on the door.

‘The telephone, Master Sirius. Leachwood Constabulary.’ 

‘Coming, thank you.’ With a last look at his pasty reflection, he goes to receive the call.

A decidedly cheerful voice greets him on the crackling line. ‘You’re back then? Welcome home, you old blighter.’

‘Yes. Not all that welcome, I don’t think.’ Sirius says solemnly, very glad to hear Lily’s voice.

‘Didn’t let you back, did they? And so close to the finish line. You must’ve been battling strong urges, getting yourself sent down at the last hurdle.’

Sirius winces slightly. ‘It wasn’t quite like that.’

‘Well, I’ve got nothing but gossip to go on, since you haven’t been telling me anything. And gross indecency is what I heard.’ Lily says teasingly. ‘Obscene acts?’

‘If only.’ Sirius sighs. ‘Nowhere near obscene enough. How’s life as a copper, then?’

‘Very busy, actually. Evil abounds. I’ll tell you all over a pint?’ 

‘Perfect. I’m just about to go down the Blue Boar for supper,’ Sirius says. ‘What do you mean, evil?’

Lily lets out a long yawn. ‘I don’t know if there’s something in the water, but people have been reporting all sorts. Apparitions, strange sightings. And all over, even somewhere near your place...’ 

‘Actually,’ Sirius says, ‘I thought I saw something odd myself this afternoon! Near Hooke Hill-’

‘Very funny,’ she interrupts him. ‘Honestly, it’s a pain in the arse. I’ve got a stack of reports up to the bloody ceiling. When we’ve got lots of serious crimes to solve!’ 

‘Serious crimes?’ Sirius snorts. ‘Here?’

‘Yes, I know, and I’m not laughing, mate,’ Lily says dryly. ‘Blimey, haven’t you heard? Hasn’t anyone told you anything?’

‘I’ve only just got back. You’re the first real person I’ve spoken to, Regulus doesn’t count. Well, you and old Jago, and you know what he’s like.’

‘It’s a real puzzler, actually. Can’t tell you much of course, but two people were attacked in the forest, in Briar’s Wood. Savaged, really. No doubt that’s what must’ve inspired all these other tall tales, people wanting to have seen monsters and so on. They don’t want to believe it might be someone they know. The mayor wants to impose a curfew, but it hasn’t happened yet. Not officially anyway.’ she clears her throat, and her upbeat voice is back. ‘So, the Blue Boar?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Sirius says, already feeling better. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I’ve de-cobwebbed the old bicycle.’

\---

By the time Sirius finishes his sumptuous pub dinner of steak and ale pie, washed down with pints of Ogden’s Oldest, there’s still no sign of Lily. Several acquaintances nod at him on their way to the bar, two people stop to chat, the old gardener, and Arthur Weasley from his old cricket team. They’re nice enough, enquiring after his mother, asking about his studies, wondering if he’s here to stay. He answers politely, if making no particular effort to be charming. It doesn’t escape him that in the dim recesses of the pub people are pointing and whispering. But he chooses instead to concentrate on the latest issue of the local newspaper. He’s just studying a feature on a proposed expansion of the Black steelworks, when he’s interrupted again.

‘Look who’s gracing us with his presence,’ says an oily, sneering voice. Lucius Malfoy stops at Sirius’ table and looks down his pointy noise at him. ‘Black the Elder! Much maligned no doubt.’ He smirks. ‘The word is you’re going to join the family firm at long last. Given up one’s lofty ideas, has one? Not quite the intellectual everyone thought, perhaps?’ He turns to his cretinous companion, Severus Snape.

‘More of a base creature, by all accounts,’ Snape says icily. ‘I expect he’ll have to work rather hard to redeem himself before anyone will be able to forget his antics. Let alone contemplate his joining the higher echelons of business and enterprise.’

‘Yes, Black.’ Malfoy smirks again. ‘About that. We should talk. We may be able to help you there.’

‘Are you quite done?’ Sirius asks lazily, meeting their gaze. Malfoy is a bully from an influential family, while Snape remains a hopeless twerp. Sirius has always pitied them, although there are plenty in whom they inspire actual fear. Apart from the fact that Sirius doesn’t give a damn, he does enjoy the luxury of status, too.

‘You wouldn’t want to embarrass your brother any further, would you now?’ Malfoy says pleasantly. ‘Or your poor, ailing mother. But don’t worry, we won’t talk shop tonight,’ he adds with a sly grin. ‘I’m sure we’ll come to a fruitful arrangement, eventually.’ 

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Sirius says coldly, dropping the paper before knocking back the rest of his pint. ‘It’s got a bit - putrid in here. I need some fresh air.’ He gets up to leave, while Malfoy, still grinning, elbows Snape and moves on towards the bar. 

\---

‘Sirius! Hello!’ Lily jumps up and circles her desk. They hug briefly, patting each other on the back. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t get away,’ she indicates the piles of paperwork on every surface. Her long red hair is ruffled and there are dark circles under her eyes. ‘I should’ve telephoned the pub, really, but it’s been a bit mental. We’ve had a flurry of new reports... How did you get in?’

‘Even McGonagall wouldn’t deny me an interview with PC Evans!’ Sirius pulls two bottles of ale from his coat pocket and passes one to her. ‘Go on, have a drink, it’s late enough. Anyway, what was that you said about a curfew?’

‘Right. Wouldn’t apply to us anyway, ideally people would like us to be on watch around the clock. Constant vigilance, you know.’

‘Well,’ Sirius sits on the rickety chair opposite Lily, ‘the fact people are scared doesn’t mean bad things are actually happening.’ 

‘Bad things _have_ been happening, you know,’ she says earnestly. ‘Lots of them.’ 

‘And all this time I thought you were just trying to spice up your letters with tales of heinous crimes.’

‘I wish.’ Smirking mirthlessly, Lily shakes her head. They open their bottles and drink. ‘We’ve never been so busy. People are blaming the forester, which is absurd. But there’ve been robberies, and muggings, the disappearance of a dog. And then…’ She lets out a weary sigh. ‘The monsters.’

‘The what?’ Sirius leans in. ‘Jago mentioned something about “wild beasts”... I thought he meant boars.’ He can’t mention the bear, Lily will think he’s a nutter.

‘It’s not the boars.’ Lily takes a long gulp of beer. ‘Several people claim to have seen a large, wild creature. Some say it was a wolf, others reckon it might have been a bear. Out near the Forest Road at dusk, and after dark. It’s all over the town.’ She points at the noticeboard, pinned to which is a large sheet of pale pink paper bearing the ominous headline _Urgent Town Meeting: Regarding Our Security._ ‘They’ve already managed to rile up the usual citizen’s defense brigade. We’ve set up daily patrols along the Forest Road, and searched the forest thoroughly, but…’ She shrugs. ‘So far there’s been nothing.’

Sirius clears his throat, his mind racing. ‘D’you think they’re imagining it?’ he asks at last.

‘That’s the strange thing. The second person to report the “monster” was old Amos Edgecombe, who’s fairly unflappable. And he was half out of his mind.’

‘Right.’ Sirius knocks back some ale. He’ll need to collect some evidence. ‘Well, if you need any help… I could keep an eye out? Wouldn’t mind a bit of detective work.’

Lily shrugs. ‘I’m just not sure there’s anything there to find! Incidentally, what _were_ you planning to do with yourself?’ She’s grinning, but sounds concerned. ‘Are you going back to London?’

‘I very much doubt it. They’ve sent me a letter, you know. That ship has truly sailed.’ When Lily gives him a look, Sirius adds savagely, ‘I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it, all right? Yes, I’m gutted. Of course I regret it all terribly. I wish I hadn’t done it. That do you?’

Raising her eyebrows, Lily nods. They both take long swigs of beer. ‘Was it worth it at least?’ she asks at last.

Sirius shrugs. He’s repeated the lie countless time, it’s just easier. Perhaps one day, he’ll tell Lily what really happened. Probably never.‘I certainly thought so at the time. But in the end… nothing to write home about.’ 

‘No one ever is, are they?’

‘Well,’ he says airily, ‘I’ll mend my wicked ways. Find solace in nature, spend my energy chasing monsters. Perhaps I’ll emerge as the valiant hero in the end.’

She gives him a serious look. ‘You of all people had better be careful, roaming the place on your own. You know what people are like.’ 

Sirius rolls his eyes and changes the subject. ‘What about your new colleague, then? PC Potter?’ Lily kept mentioning James Potter in her most recent letters. Now she grins nervously and throws a glance at the door. 

‘Well, what about him? He’s, you know. You’ll like him, he’s nice.’

Impressed, Sirius can’t help grinning at his best friend. ‘And what does he make of you? Head over heels, surely - he’s only human.’

Lily is positively beaming now. ‘I’m officially taking him to the Blightmore bonfire! You’ll meet him there, at the very latest.’

‘Oh yeah...’ Sirius sighs deeply. ‘The bonfire. I’d forgotten all about our glittering local events. D’you think I’ll have to go? The pub was bad enough, people giving me the evils... Not to mention my brother’s odious cronies.’

‘It’s not for ages yet. Think about it. And in the meantime, keep to the Seven Stars, they don’t like it there.’ 

‘No one does. Except for old codgers.’

Lily laughs. ‘Thanks very much! Either way, you know you’ll have to face them all some time. Best to get it over with.’ 

\---

Swerving wildly on his bicycle, Sirius hums a tune, feeling strangely at peace with the world. The pedals creak a little, the bicycle lamp draws jittering patterns onto the road. He’s forgotten how quiet it gets out here at night, nothing like the din of the big city with traffic at all hours, alarms and sirens ringing, people shouting and brawling. It doesn’t ever get this dark there, either – though Sirius doesn’t mind the dark, never has. He’s known since he was a boy that he can better see at night than most people. But he’s got other ways of sensing potential danger, too, which don’t depend on daylight at all. 

Turning into the Leachwood Road, he looks up at the half moon hanging low in the sky, smudged by clouds. There’s a real autumn chill in the air, he thinks woefully, glad that he’s drunk enough to not have to bother with any uncomfortable thoughts regarding his immediate future. 

Then he notices someone, further along, and slows down. It’s a distinct scent, and familiar, though he can’t place it. Warm wood, and leather, and traces of a herb, something like hyssop. Following an impulse, he gets off his bike and silently drops it into the long grass by the roadside, wandering on on foot. 

There’s a person in the small cemetery. Sitting on a tomb, bent over a small, bushy plant. Even in his inebriated state, Sirius feels sure that the person isn’t dangerous, but - interesting. 

‘Evening,’ he says, casually leaning against the cemetery gate, and suppresses a hiccup. 

The figure jumps, gaping at him with wide eyes. In the patchy moonlight, Sirius recognises him at once, and gasps. It’s the young man he saw in the forest yesterday. But after the first shock, Sirius realises he’s not afraid, or even wary – just curious. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘I’m not armed or anything.’ 

‘It’s not that,’ the young man says lightly. ‘I can usually hear people sneaking up on me, that’s all.’ His voice is deep and mellow.

Sirius grins. ‘I’m particularly good at it. D’you often frequent cemeteries at night?’ 

‘Depends, really.’ The boy sounds amused. ‘Do you?’

‘It’s on my way home. What are you doing, getting a few cuttings for the garden? I’ve read about this,’ Sirius says gravely, stifling another hiccup, ‘the funerary look. Latest craze in horticultural design.’ 

There’s a flash of teeth as the boy grins, too.

‘What is that, purple spurge?’ Taking a few steps closer, Sirius eyes the bushy plant. ‘Doesn’t half pong, you know. You might want to rethink your concept.’ 

The boy chuckles. ‘It’s Dog’s Mercury,’ he explains. ‘There’s less of a stench if you collect it at night.’

‘Are you a botanist, then?’ Sirius asks, perching on a nearby tomb. 

‘Something like that,’ the boy says vaguely. 

‘And a reckless one, out and about at this hour,’ Sirius grins. He wants to ask him a lot of important questions, but his mind is in a hazy muddle and he’s not sure how to begin. ‘What with what people have been saying… Most people would be scared of going near the forest at all now, especially at night.’ He holds out his silver cigarette case. ‘Smoke?’

‘I’d love one, thank you.’ The boy gets up, his lean frame a long shadow as he steps closer to pluck a cigarette from the case before handing it back. ‘And you’re right, I suppose, most people would be scared.’ When he strikes a match, the flash of orange light briefly illuminates soft ruffled hair, fine cheekbones, and a rumpled shirt collar. He puffs on his cigarette. ‘Nothing wrong with being unlike most people though, is there?’ he says then. ‘At least that’s what my mum used to say.’ 

Nodding wistfully, Sirius lights his own cigarette. To make up for his clumsy fingers, he blows a great billowing plume of smoke. ‘My mother’s always said the exact opposite.’

‘Ah. I take it you’re not that close, then?’

Sirius snorts. ‘Not very.’ He tries to make out more of the boy’s features in the darkness. ‘I’m Sirius, by the way.’

‘Remus.’ The boy cocks his tousled head. ‘Do you live in the big house?’

‘Yes,’ Sirius says darkly. ‘One of the sons, in fact.’

‘Oh.’ Remus sounds surprised, and almost disappointed. 

Sirius ploughs on regardless. ‘Very much not the satisfactory one.’ 

‘You’re the reprobate?’ Remus grins. ‘That’s a relief.’

Sirius chuckles. ‘Doesn’t feel like it, not at the moment.’ He really is quite tipsy. And he’s secretly thrilled by this young man’s proximity. 

‘I haven’t turned out quite the way my parents would’ve wanted me to, either.’ Remus takes a seat next to him, on a neighbouring tomb. ‘Listen, would you like a drink?’

‘I thought you’d never ask!’ 

The boy produces a flask from his jacket pocket and unstoppers it, taking a quick sip himself before handing it over. ‘You’ve been away, haven’t you?’ he asks pleasantly. 

‘Yes.’ The spirit has an aromatic green herbal note and packs a punch. Hyssop, and mint, and something else... It takes Sirius a moment to catch his breath. ‘I thought I’d escaped this place. But apparently it wasn’t to be.’

‘What made you come back?’

Sirius lets out a long sigh. ‘Doing the decent thing, I suppose. My mother is very ill, about to breathe her last, in fact, and - things in London didn’t go exactly as planned.’ His head is swimming, and he’s feeling a bit numb.

‘Ah.’ Remus says quietly. ‘I’m sorry. About your mother, too.’ 

‘Thank you. I’m not sure that I am.’ Shocked by his own admission, Sirius takes another swig. ‘Strike that, what a terrible thing to say.’ He stares at the bottle, before passing it back. ‘This is nice. What’s it called?’ He’s probably had enough to drink, he thinks. But he’s also feeling more cheerful than he’s been in ages.

‘I’m not sure, to be honest,’ Remus grins. ‘A friend of mine makes it, she’s got a way with boozy potions.’

‘That’s lucky.’ Sirius says vaguely. ‘You do seem to know an awful lot about me, and I don’t know the first thing about you. Are you, in fact, a ghost?’

Remus laughs. ‘I might be…?’ he says ominously, and drinks. ‘There isn’t very much to know about me. Unlike the wayward son of the most prominent and influential family in the region.’

‘I doubt that very much.’ Sirius thinks of the conductor’s baton, the sparks, the jet of light. The bloody bear. Feeling dizzy, he shifts uneasily and gets up. ‘Actually,’ he mumbles. His head is spinning. ‘I’m suddenly feeling a bit…’ 

He stumbles over a root, bile rising in his throat. The bottle slips from his hand and smashes on a rock. ‘Sorry, I-’ Bracing himself on a headstone, Sirius vomits spectacularly. 

‘Are you all right?’ Remus’ hand rests lightly on Sirius’ shoulder. 

‘Sorry about that,’ Sirius manages before another burst of vomit spews forth, cramping his insides. Utterly exhausted, he gasps for breath. ‘Did I just – your trousers –’

‘Don’t worry,’ Remus says kindly. ‘Happens to the best of us.’

Sirius winces, mortified. ‘And I smashed your bottle of… I’ll replace it.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Remus sounds amused. ‘Here, drink some of this.’ He presses a glass of water into Sirius’ hand, and Sirius obediently drinks. Miraculously, his head stops spinning. 

‘That’s better,’ he mutters. ‘I don’t usually...’

‘I know. That stuff is lethal. I just hope I haven’t permanently damaged you. Are you going to be all right getting home?’

‘Course,’ Sirius blinks in the darkness. ‘I’ll see you around. Soon. Tomorrow?’

—-

The next morning, Sirius wakes feeling fuzzy and strangely removed from reality. He breakfasts alone under the huge lead crystal chandelier in the gloomy dining room, before returning upstairs, where he sits heavily on his bed, staring at his wooden trunk. 

With a heavy heart, he unpacks his books one by one, stacking fat volumes onto the carved desk. Physiognomy, Anatomy, The Circulatory System. Cellular structures. Metamorphoses in the life cycle. Mammals. Next to the books he places the bottles of ink, his records, some sheet music, his father’s old fob watch. He’d taken it with him in case he needed to pawn it in an emergency. 

With a dejected sigh he stretches out on his bed, staring at the ornate ceiling before dozing off again until well after lunchtime. 

Then he rambles through the house, revisiting the dusty old rooms like old memories. The music room, the library, various formal guest chambers and drawing rooms. Some are shut up, the furniture shrouded in sheets. Others are unchanged, every object in its place, as though frozen in time. In the kitchen, Sirius doesn’t recognise anyone and is sorry to learn that the old cook has retired.

Finally, he heads out into the gardens, down the long gravel drive and out of the front gate.

He follows the road for a bit, slowing his step as he passes the small cemetery. The gate creaks ominously, dew drops cling to the cobwebs in the towering brambles. Sirius finds it immediately, the rank smell of sick in the damp mud at the foot of the stone commemorating his great-uncle Cygnus. There’s nothing else there. No shards of glass, not even a sliver. He did smash a bottle here, didn’t he? He thinks he can sniff out a trace of herbs, hyssop was it? Or did he imagine the whole thing? 

Once again he wishes he could recall the bloke’s features, but it had been a bit too dark, and he’d been a bit too drunk. And despite the fact that he doesn’t know much about him beyond his name, there was something... Something about Remus. They had a friendly chat, that’s as far as he can remember. And Remus did laugh at Sirius’ silly jokes...

He shakes his head as though to clear his thoughts, and walks on, striding along the road before turning off into the forest. Wandering along the logging path, listening to birdsong, he feels a bit better already.

The path forks once, and again, and soon Sirius abandons it altogether. He steps lightly, his feet finding their own way. This is familiar ground, the setting of countless childhood games, elaborate treasure hunts, childish ambushes. He passes a little clearing where on the soft, mossy ground he and Lily had nervously picnicked with people - boys from the village she fancied, various girl friends she was trying to set him up with. They’d sat here, gulping down bottles of brown ale, hoping for a kiss to brag about later. 

Young Sirius had collected a few, but he knew very well not to brag about the ones that mattered. He remembers one balmy afternoon in the woodshed with the mechanic’s delicate son, who trembled as he bravely leaned in for a kiss, and bolted immediately after. And the very handsome undergardener, whom Sirius loved watching at work, handling his spade and his shears and pushing that wheelbarrow. Sirius had had his fair share of encounters at school by then. Eventually, he accosted the gardener in the topiary garden. And over the weeks that followed, he introduced Sirius to all sorts of other delights as they kept up their clandestine meetings, until one day he was mysteriously summoned to Sirius’ mother’s office and summarily dismissed.

Sirius leaps over a stream and fights his way through dense undergrowth before the trees open up again. He passes a tremendous oak he remembers always trying to climb when he was much younger, and knows it’s not far now. Under the dense canopy the damp air tastes of earth and rotting wood, and the smallest sounds echo and carry, like in a cathedral. At dusk, this is where you’d find will o’ the wisps, or foxfire.

Then he spots the stone marker. A pale flat slab with a carved crest and withered beading, sitting between the brambles. The carved words have long become illegible, he and Lily used to guess at their meaning. A warning, they’d agreed, something intruders ought to heed. They’d invented all sorts of hair-raising stories about this place, and speculated wildly. After all, this deep in the forest, anything might lurk, and it was bound to be otherworldly, or dangerous, or both. 

Even now, supposedly a grown man, Sirius can’t help feeling a bit uneasy here, among the tangled greenery in the murky light. He walks on carefully. The soft ground can be treacherous. But somewhere around here – is where it happened, all those years ago, he’s certain. That terrible woman, appearing from nowhere, her arm outstretched, screaming at him, and then… 

He’s never told anyone about it, not even Lily. And they’d never ventured further than this, the stone marked the border of their territory. No need to go on, no inclination, and anyway time to turn back to get home in time.

But now Sirius wants to know. Climbing over logs, ducking between thorny shrubs, he stumbles a few times, tearing his shirt on a barbed branch jutting out like a finger. Blood beads on the back of his hand where he’s caught it on something sharp.

The place is bloody impenetrable, he concedes at last, realising he’s been moving in circles. It doesn’t make any sense, but he can’t seem to get past a certain point - no matter that he’s clambered over fallen trees, navigated sudden drops and steep muddy inclines, gingerly waded through a deep sea of ferns, nettles, and hemlock. It’s a labyrinth, and it’s defeated him. 

Several times he wonders if he should - give in, and shift. Out here, the thought is almost overwhelming, and irresistible. But Sirius resists. He’s not doing that anymore, he won’t do it now. Instead, he dusts himself off and turns back. Past the old oak, and the stone marker. Down a long hill, he balances across a log across another stream, and comes upon the bridle path. Eventually he emerges, tired and bedraggled, onto the Forest Road. 

\---

Sirius keeps up his daily forays into the forest, but doesn’t encounter anything noteworthy. A few deer, foraging locals, but no monsters. No trace of a bear, either. Then, one soggy afternoon, he happens upon a strange gathering on an old logging road near Briar’s Wood.

Approaching unseen, Sirius is puzzled by the scene. There is Snyde, Regulus’ secretary, leaning against the Daimler. And a few paces away, standing by a pile of logs are Regulus’ close associates Malfoy, Rowle, and Rookwood, along with Scrimgeour from the parish council. What on earth are they doing out here? They’d be more at home sipping champagne somewhere. Sirius remembers first spotting his brother with them years ago, in the smoking bar at the Royal Oak Hotel. Regulus had looked so nervous, eager to please, mortified when he spotted Sirius and Lily. These days there’s nothing deferential about him anymore. Rowle and Rookwood are grinning lazily, watching as Malfoy argues with some other bloke.

‘No,’ Malfoy hisses. ‘I’ve told you before. Never. The impertinence!’ He shakes his head in disgust. ‘How dare you even suggest such a thing? This is a business first and foremost, but even if we’re not a bloody charity we do operate entirely above board.’ 

Edging closer, curious who’s earned himself such a dressing down, Sirius catches his breath. The man is standing with his back to him, but Sirius recognises him immediately. At first he doesn’t quite trust his own judgment, but it is him! The boy from the forest, and the cemetery. The bear whisperer, Remus. He is real after all. There he is, in a rumpled suit, arguing with bloody Lucius Malfoy! 

‘I’d urge you to reconsider,’ he’s saying calmly. Sirius has never seen him by daylight. His hair is a bit fairer than Sirius had expected, his skin is a bit darker than Sirius’ own. 

‘Are you threatening me?’ Scowling, Malfoy takes a step forward, leaning in and trying to stare him down, but Remus is undeterred.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he says politely. ‘You are threatening ancient woodland, and quietly scheming to appropriate common land for your own commercial enterprise.’

‘Gentlemen!’ Scrimgeour cuts in, his hand on Malfoy’s arm, who looks ready to bite Remus’ head off. ‘Contain yourselves! This is hardly the place. We’ve come here on official business. I’d ask you to address any concerns you may have via the proper channels.’

Remus looks at them all in turn, shaking his head. ‘Shame on you,’ he says. ‘Funny what happened to Amos Edgecombe, seeing as he was the last person to dare question your dealings. I suppose I ought to be glad you’ve got an official here with you, forcing you to keep up appearances. Just about the only thing they’re still good for.’ He turns sharply and marches off. 

Rowle laughs, while Malfoy mutters indignantly. None of them has spotted Sirius yet. As Remus disappears into the woods, Sirius doesn’t hang around, but heads in the same direction, moving very quickly under the cover of the trees. 

They’re far from the road by the time he catches up with him. ‘Remus,’ he calls out quietly. ‘Wait!’

The boy whips around. Recognising Sirius, his glare becomes a puzzled frown. ‘You!’ 

Then Sirius is beside him. ‘You are real, then,’ he grins, panting slightly. ‘I thought perhaps you were a ghost after all.’

‘What do you want?’ Remus asks, irritated.

‘I was hoping to talk to you. If you’ve got a minute.’

Remus stares at him for a long moment. He’s got a rather ordinary face, and yet there’s something striking about him. With a mere hint of a smile, he shrugs. ‘Go on then.’ And he turns to walk on.

‘Right.’ Sirius clears his throat, keeping up with Remus’ brisk pace. ‘I owe you a drink, don’t I? For smashing that bottle of yours. And vomiting on your trousers.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Remus says quietly.

‘But can I still buy you a drink? Please? Just for fun?’ 

Remus shoots him a quick glance. ‘I’m not sure you and I ought to be socialising. You did see your brother’s mates back there, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, well. They can’t stand the sight of me, either,’ Sirius says lightly, ‘and believe me, the feeling is mutual.’

‘Aren’t you part of the family firm? Surely that lot are close associates of the Black Steel Company.’ 

‘Not yet I’m not!’ Sirius says vehemently. ‘Although no doubt they’ll rope me into it sooner rather than later,’ he adds with a sigh. ‘What are you doing now? Quick one at the Seven Stars? Feels like it’s about to rain, might as well get somewhere dry?’ When Remus looks up at the sky and bites his lip indecisively, he hastens to add, ‘or we can go somewhere else. Anywhere you like.’

‘All right.’ Remus says slowly, clearly acting against his own better judgment. ‘The Seven Stars it is.’ 

When he smiles at Sirius, Sirius can’t help beaming. ‘Brilliant!’

‘Let’s go this way, though,’ Remus says, leaving the muddy path altogether and picking his way through the spiny undergrowth. ‘It’s a lot quicker.’

‘Right.’ Sirius follows him closely, amazed by the other boy’s effortless progress. They bend down to avoid some low hanging branches, and round a patch of thorny shrubs. ‘You’re not afraid of Malfoy and his cronies. Do you really have dirt on them?’

Remus throws him a look. ‘I’m not going to answer that. Anyway, why wouldn’t you want to join the family firm? It’ll be a comfortable life, won’t it?’

‘Because I don’t give two figs about steel, or coke, or lag or scrap, about new types of blast furnaces, the ins and outs of supply and demand, or the minutiae of manufacturing. I was doing medical research in London. That’s what I want to carry on doing.’

‘Medicine?’ Remus sounds surprised. ‘What sort of thing?’

‘Physiognomy, really.’ Sirius clears his throat. He’s not talked about any of it in months. ‘Specifically, the cellular mechanisms involved in physical transformation. The way a tadpole turns into a frog, you know? Or a nymph into a mayfly. I was investigating processes that could be reversed, or occur spontaneously.’

Remus is staring now, his strange amber gaze fixed on Sirius. ‘And? What did you find?’

‘I was ridiculed, mainly,’ Sirius smiles and shrugs. ‘Told I must believe in fairy stories, because such creatures don’t in fact exist. But I’m sure they do. I know they do.’ he adds stubbornly. ‘Anyway, that’s all over now.’

They come into a small clearing, and a stream. ‘Did anyone else take on your research, and continue it?’ Remus asks, leading the way across treacherous roots along the muddy bank. 

‘I very much doubt it.’ Walking behind him, Sirius enjoys watching the other boy’s supple movements, his long limbs and narrow hips. Remus climbs onto a large fallen log and carelessly saunters across the stream. Glancing down for a foothold, Sirius notices a thin, carved stick lying in the mud. Like a conductor’s baton. It must have fallen from Remus’ pocket. He picks it up, his heart thumping in his chest, holding the thing close as he quickly crosses the stream.

‘You’re very light on your feet,’ Remus grins at him on the other side.

‘So people keep telling me,’ Sirius says with a small laugh, and takes a deep breath. ‘Here, you dropped your stick.’

‘Oh.’ Wide eyed, Remus just stops short of snatching it back. ‘Thank you.’ Grinning sheepishly, he rapidly pushes it up his sleeve, out of sight.

They stand still, looking at each other, Remus’ gaze searching Sirius’ face, for a reaction? Recognition? Sirius clears his throat. He doesn’t ask, not about the stick, or the bear, or any of it. ‘What is it you do, then?’ he asks instead. ‘Something like botany, wasn’t it?’

‘I’m a cabinetmaker,’ Remus says quickly, visibly relieved as he turns to stride on beneath the high, airy canopy of the trees. ‘I make furniture and things, in my father’s shop, on the Hexham Road near Wood End.’

‘Oh!’ Sirius says with genuine appreciation. ‘You must be good with your hands! I’ve always admired people who can make things... never really had the patience myself. I take it the intrepid botany’s just a sideline?’ 

‘Sort of,’ Remus chuckles.‘Sometimes I collect plants for an old friend, that’s all. She’s the one who made that drink you tried -’

‘The one who finished me off, you mean.’ 

‘Well.’ Remus says dryly, and they share an amused glance. Sirius wonders if perhaps Remus likes the look of him, too. The thought is thrilling, and dangerous, and he daren’t dwell on it.

‘So you’re from Wood End...’ he says quickly. ‘I know I’ve been away for a long time, but I don’t think I remember seeing you around?’

And then he recognises the giant oak. The smells, the soft boggy earth. The giant, impenetrable thorn bushes. Remus is saying something about his parents and Wales, but Sirius doesn’t catch any of it, he’s too astounded. There is the old stone marker. 

‘But,’ he blurts out, stopping to look back, ‘what on earth...?’ They’ve just sauntered across the very piece of impenetrable land he’s never been able to cut through.

‘What?’ Remus asks, bemused. 

Sirius narrows his eyes at him. What exactly is at play here? Something uncanny, and mysterious and strange - though it doesn’t feel sinister. Sirius the scientist is baffled, Sirius the man is enthralled. Of course he’s been wrong before.  
‘Never used this shortcut,’ he mutters, as the first raindrops pelt his nose.

It’s really coming down now, and they speed up, hurrying through the last bit of wood and an orchard, and once out in the open they sprint across a field and along the road to the village green and into the Seven Stars.

There’s hardly a soul in the old pub, popular with an elderly clientele. Sirius buys them pints of amber ale, and they sit in the empty back room at a table by a puny fire, while the rain beats against the window. Sitting across from each other, they chat companionably, about the best pubs in the area, about popular bars in the county town. Remus doesn’t go out all that much, Sirius discovers, apparently he prefers keeping himself to himself and local life at arm’s length. Sirius can’t help feeling pleased, and perhaps secretly hopeful, that he’s managed to tempt him out for a drink.

He explains that he’s much in the same boat. Life has moved on in his absence. His university friends are far away pursuing important careers and obscure studies, his friends from boarding school are scattered all over the country. Except for Lily of course, his great, long standing friend, who’s still here, and pursuing a career in the police. Meaning she’s perpetually occupied by her job, and distracted by her colleague, James Potter.

‘Potter the copper?’ Remus says gravely. ‘That must sting a bit.’

Sirius shrugs. ‘It’s a good thing, really. People still insist that she and I will one day make a fine couple, all evidence to the contrary. Things being what they are, it’s much better she’s associated with a decent, respectable bloke. Not that I know him all that well yet, but whenever we’ve met we got on like a house on fire. And there’s no denying he’s easy on the eye.’

Remus nods, wistfully contemplating the dregs of his pint. That last bit slipped out accidentally, or on purpose, Sirius wonders if maybe it was a bit much? But when Remus finally lifts his gaze, he indicates Sirius’ glass. ‘Same again?’

Of course Sirius agrees heartily. What is he doing with this strange bloke, he wonders while Remus goes off to fetch their drinks. Remus is charming, and easy to talk to – familiar, almost. He seems refreshingly unbothered by Sirius’ refined family background, or by the fact haughty Regulus is his brother. Sirius is very much intrigued. And he’s just a little afraid of him, too. 

‘Tell me about your life in London, then,’ Remus says when he returns with their fresh pints. ‘I’ve only been twice, for a couple of days each, and don’t remember much apart from Tower Bridge and the shop windows in Piccadilly.’  
Sirius tells him about the colleges, his lecturers, his work in the laboratory. Remus is keen to hear more about the surgical and anatomical museums, the theatres, and cinemas. What about the parks, the zoo? And the nightlife?

As Sirius launches into lively descriptions of music, and night clubs, and dancing, the whims and foibles of fashionable young people, he omits to mention any of his own adventures. All those dubious characters with whom he’s taken up passing friendships and fleeting liaisons in sweaty and smoky pubs, in glittering mirrored bars, in odorous back alleys. He doesn’t mind a touch of danger, mysteries have always fascinated him. He’s a scientist, after all.

When they’re most of the way through their second pint, the rain dies down. A whole group of people must have arrived suddenly, their raucous voices carrying from the bar. ‘I’d better get on,’ Remus says abruptly, getting to his feet.

‘Right.’ Sirius agrees, although he happily would’ve stayed for a few more. ‘I s’ppose I ought to head home, too.’

‘Let me walk with you for a bit,’ Remus says quietly. ‘I’m going the same way.’

They leave by the back door. Ambling along the sodden road, Sirius catches Remus glancing at him once or twice. 

‘About Malfoy and his gang...’ Sirius breaks their comfortable silence, ‘what is it they’re doing, exactly, that so wrong?’

Remus makes a face. ‘They’re taking what’s not theirs,’ he says simply. ‘And in this instance, they’re planning to destroy whole swathes of forest in the process.’

‘But the forest is huge! If this is about the access road -’ 

‘It’s a much larger than that.’ Remus gives him a doubtful look. ‘Do you really not know about this? They’ve sent a prospector, I’ve seen the plans. It’ll be a huge project, in conjunction with your steel plant. Your brother is in on it, too. All of them are.’

‘But it’ll bring a lot of wealth to the area,’ Sirius finds himself parroting his brother’s words, the same as his father’s words years ago when he explained about expansion and the brand new coke ovens. 

‘Yeah, a lot of wealth,’ Remus says evenly, ‘but to whom, exactly?’

‘People are asking for the forest to be cleared anyway, aren’t they? Why are you so bothered by it?’

Remus nods grimly. ‘They think it’s what they want, because of what’s supposedly been going on. The horrors of the forest. But once the ancient woodland is gone, that’s it. We won’t get it back.’ He sighs. ‘And it’s important because - it’s a rare thing, you know? Not that it’ll mean much to you, I suppose, especially if you prefer the bright lights and excitement of a big city... but it does to me.’ They’ve come to a junction, and slow their step. ‘I’m going that way,’ he indicates the lane to the right. Sirius will be turning left. They stop by a massive elm.

‘Actually, when I was away,’ Sirius says, ‘the forest was the only thing I missed. It does mean a lot to me, too. Probably the one place I feel most at home. Spending time out here is the one good thing about being back. Despite what’s been happening, and everyone telling me to keep well away.’ 

‘You don’t think there are any monsters then?’ Remus grins. ‘Aren’t you the scientist who believes in fairy tales?’

‘Monsters?’ He holds Remus’ gaze. They’re standing very close. ‘No. But - unexplained phenomena, possibly.’

Still smiling, Remus raises a curious eyebrow. And Sirius, his heartbeat pounding in his chest, can’t help staring at Remus’ lips. Perhaps he should - 

‘I’d better go,’ Remus says briskly, taking a step back. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

‘Any time.’ Sirius takes a deep breath. ‘D’you... Shall we do this again some time?’ He’s relieved when Remus smiles and shrugs.

‘Yeah, why not?’ 

‘Meet me in the little cemetery tomorrow, after dark? Or you can always ring me up at the house...’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll find you.’ And with a friendly wave, Remus turns and walks off down the lane.

Sirius watches him for a moment, before continuing on his own way home. 

—-

The very next day Jago informs him that he’ll be driving Sirius to the steelworks for a late morning meeting with Master Regulus.

As instructed, after a sombre breakfast, Sirius slumps into the back seat of the car, bracing himself for the meeting. Jago is taciturn today, they drive in silence. Eventually the pull into the grand entrance, the huge premises, the goods yard. When he was a child, the blast furnaces impressed him greatly. White hot temperatures, melting iron out of the rock. The towering brickwork, the smell in the echoing halls, the glowing red metal pouring from massive vats. When his father had taken him and Regulus on several tours of the works, Sirius had thought of it as some sort of powerful alchemy. Now it bores him to tears.

And even worse, Regulus awaits him flanked by some of his awful business associates, the town’s young, new, self styled captains of industry. There’s slippery Malfoy, and slimy Rowle, Rookwood and Snyde. Regulus is by far the youngest, but also the most powerful, and he’s taken up a ridiculous swagger, as well as a ludicrous stance, leaning back as though supporting an impressive, non existent beer belly. 

Sirius maintains a haughty demeanour throughout the tour of the facility, ignoring the many underhanded insults from his companions. Not cut out to be a physician after all, was he. Unable to restrain his sordid desires, and so on. They’re joking, of course, as they keep reminding him, it’s only banter. Really they want to be seen to be sucking up to him, because of his status and social standing but, hapless bullies they are, they can’t help themselves. 

To his horror, the tour ends in a large oak panelled room high above the factory floor for an opulent lunch. This, supposedly in his honour, as Regulus purports in his short speech, really is designed to remind everyone where Sirius belongs, including Sirius himself.

No matter his temporary flights of fancy of a life elsewhere - rest assured, no member of the House of Black would purposely choose to let his family, his heritage, and the business down.

As he endures the endless meal, his thoughts inevitably stray back to Remus. Remus’ earnest disdain for the Black family business, their expansion plans, and probably everyone else at this table. Remus’ long, delicate hands. His lively eyes, and mischievous smile. The way he’d looked at Sirius, standing under that massive elm tree... Hopefully Sirius really will see him again. Perhaps even tonight? 

Talk turns from business to gossip over cheese, and lewd jokes by the time the cigars come out. Sirius knocks back his liqueur, and finally makes his excuses. 

\---

Sirius gets there just after sunset. Perching on a headstone in the little cemetery, he wonders if there’s any point waiting for Remus at all, and if he is coming, how he would get here. Wood End, didn’t he say, the Hexham Road? It’s a fair old slog away, even on a bicycle. How did he get home the first time they met here? 

Feeling by turns ridiculous and excited, he burns his fingers toying with the small lantern he’s brought from the house. He’s lit it so Remus would know he’s here, the way he used to when he furtively met Lily out here in the school holidays. A stray gust of wind pelts him with icy drizzle, and of course it’s obvious Remus won’t be coming. Who’d be out in this weather?

Huddling into his coat, Sirius breathes in the dark smells of loam and moss, and blinks at two pin pricks of light in the distance, moving closer. Then he picks up the rumble of the engine, a familiar timbre - at a guess, the police car?  
The headlights swoop along the road, until the police car comes to a creaking halt in front of the cemetery gate, and a door opens. 

‘Are you sure?’ Lily’s voice sounds weary.

‘Absolutely. Thank you again.’ Remus climbs out of the car.

‘PC Evans!’ Sirius calls out over the fence. ‘What are you doing here?’ He can see her squinting into the darkness, trying to make him out.

‘Just gave a lift to Mr Lupin here, said you’re expecting him. Friend of yours, is he?’

‘Yes.’ Sirius can’t help grinning. 

‘That’s all right then. I’ll see you at the Blue Boar tomorrow.’ She clears her throat. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, and stay away from the woods!’

Keeping a straight face, Sirius solemnly promises they’ll be good and waves as she drives off. 

He turns to Remus and addresses him in an overly formal tone. ‘Remus Lupin?’ 

‘Ah. Yes.’ With a slight bow, Remus sticks out his hand for Sirius to shake. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Sirius Black.’ Sirius chuckles. ‘At your service.’

‘She stopped me on the forest road,’ Remus explains. ‘I think she was worried I might be planning to harass your brother.’

‘And she’d rather we harassed him together?’ Sirius grins. ‘I’m afraid he’s out tonight... meaning we’ve got the run of the house. Come on.’ He touches Remus’ arm, and after retrieving the lantern he leads the way across the cemetery wall, and around the back. Through the gardens, across the lawn, up the back stairs into the house.

Remus follows him, moving smoothly like a shadow, along dim passages, down some steps, past the scullery. ‘It’s happened, you know,’ Sirius explains quietly as he picks up a couple of glasses from a table in the corridor, before descending a spiral staircase to the wine cellar. ‘My days are numbered. I’ve been officially introduced into the family firm.’ He gestures at the endless deep shelves lining the roughly hewn walls, stacked with boxes and bottles. ‘So I thought we might have a drink, courtesy of the Black Steel Company. What do you think?’

‘My sincere condolences,’ Remus says gravely, looking very delectable in the candlelight. ‘I suppose a drink is bound to help.’

They choose several bottles, opening them one by one, and sit at the table at the centre of the cavernous space. 

‘What are they having you do?’ Remus asks when they’ve clinked glasses and made a start.

Sirius moans. ‘Inspection. Paperwork. All of it extremely tedious of course...’ He proceeds to recount his awful day at the steelworks, and appreciates Remus’ commiserations. As they drink, talk turns to woodworking, mulch, and micro-organisms, and then, as they lavishly fill and refill their glasses, more abstract, obscure, and silly things. Sirius is enjoying himself, savouring Remus’ attention, watching the play of shadows on his face, his easy laugh. And Remus smells good - of conifers, or woody resin, or petrichor - faint but noticeable in the damp, musty cellar. They’re both very merry when Sirius hears the distant sound of the front door slamming shut. 

‘That’s my brother,’ he says dejectedly. ‘Back from his nefarious dealings. We’d better keep it down until he slinks off to bed...’

‘I’d better make a move, actually.’ Remus gets to his feet, swaying a little. ‘It’s no fun operating the band saw with a raging hangover. And you’ve got a lot of inspecting to do tomorrow, haven’t you?’

He won’t be dissuaded and leaves quickly, via the kitchen stairs. It’s raining again, but he only grudgingly accepts the waterproof Sirius forces upon him, then goes along with the offer of a bicycle, which Sirius fetches for him from a woodshed. Sirius gets soaked to the skin as he waves him off, both of them laughing, and Remus in his flapping grey raincoat gliding away across the lawn and down the drive like a dark ghost.

\---

A dreadful morning at the steelworks is much improved by a telephone message for Sirius, delivered by a coyly smiling secretary. At his convenience, a certain bicycle will be returned to the Blue Boar that evening.

‘I haven’t got long,’ Remus tells him later, when Sirius finds him smoking on a bench under the large apple tree at edge of Leachwood Green, across from the pub. The bicycle is propped against the mossy, gnarled trunk. ‘Terrible day?’

‘The worst!’ Sirius grins. ‘Better now, though. So where are you off to in such a hurry?’

Taking a long drag, Remus merely shrugs. ‘You’re meeting your friend Lily, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should leave? Stay and eat with us, why don’t you? You’d definitely get on.’ 

Remus looks dubious. ‘Thank you, but not tonight. There’s something else I’ve got to do.’

‘Your father a bit of a slavedriver, then?’ Sirius persists, sitting down next to him.  
He won’t ask too much - in fact, he really likes that Remus doesn’t ask too many questions, either. Sirius thought about this earlier today, his mind drifting while pouring over endlessly dull documents in his deadly office. Remus hasn’t yet tried to wheedle out of him what exactly happened in London, or why he roams the forest, or why people around here think he’s such a deviant. And Sirius, who knows all about desperately keeping a part of himself secret, has not once questioned any of the mysteries surrounding Remus. It’s what makes their odd new friendship so refreshing.

‘How’s your mother?’ Remus asks evenly.

‘Oh. You know.’ Sirius shoots him a glance, before lighting a cigarette, too. ‘The same. A bit worse. On her way out.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve lost my mum, too, years ago. She was ill, too. It’s hard watching someone wasting away.’

‘It is. Even if we’ve never been on the best of terms.’ Sirius takes a deep breath. ‘Can I visit your workshop some time? I’d love to see what you do.’

Remus clears his throat. ‘Yes, why not,’ he says stiffly, before turning to grin at Sirius. ‘Would you give me a tour of the steelworks?’

‘Don’t!’ Sirius winces. ‘There’s nothing to see at all. The place is dire.’ He’s keenly aware of their hands on the bench, are almost touching. ‘And they’ll never let you in. Especially after what you said to Malfoy and that lot, you’re bound to have been blacklisted.’

‘How flattering!’ Remus says cheerfully. ‘But if you hate it so much, why do you keep going back?’

Sirius is taken aback. ‘Because I’ve - as things stand, I haven’t got much of a choice.’ 

‘Everyone’s always got a choice,’ Remus says calmly. They share a long look that’s making Sirius feel a bit jittery. And their hands are definitely touching now. ‘You more than anyone.’

Sirius swallows hard. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’ But with Remus so close, looking at him like that with his lips slightly parted, everything does seem very simple. Sirius follows his own impulse before he can question it. He leans in, and their lips meet for a brief, tentative kiss. When they come apart, Remus stares at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t pull away though, but puts his hand on Sirius’ arm and goes in for a second, more passionate kiss. It’s smoky, and wonderful.

As Sirius leans back, amazed by what’s just happened, Remus flicks his cigarette end away and checks the clock tower. ‘I’d better be off.’ He gets up.

‘See you tomorrow?’ Sirius manages to sound casual. ‘Here, or..?’

‘I can’t do tomorrow,’ says Remus. ‘But I’ll see you soon. I’ll come and find you.’

Sirius rolls his eyes. ‘Not if I find you first.’ 

Remus flashes him a smile, and strides off. 

\---

Lily is already in the pub. ‘You look...’ she narrows her eyes at him when he arrives at her table. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing,’ he shrugs, grinning smugly as he smoothly slides into the seat opposite. 

‘It’s your new friend, isn’t it? Remus Lupin?’ 

‘D’you know him, then?’

‘Only vaguely. Bit strange, isn’t he?’ 

‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Sirius says breezily. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met him before I left, or even seen him.’

‘Yeah, his family did live around here originally, but moved away ages ago. McGonagall said there was a scandal, something about coalburners causing trouble, and a falling out with - well, with your dad, I suppose?’

‘I think I remember that... When they installed the large coke ovens?’ Over by the bar, Sirius spots the familiar figure of Police Constable James Potter, and raises his hand to attract his attention. ‘PC Potter joining us for lunch, is he?’

‘Yes!’ Lily beams, turning in her seat. ‘I know you like him, really. Anyway, about Lupin - he’s only been back a few years. We haven’t seen much of him, he’s not been getting involved in local affairs or anything.’ 

‘He might be getting involved now,’ Sirius says quietly. ‘You know, about that access road...’

‘You heard, then?’ James joins them, taking a seat next to Lily just as Rosmerta the barmaid arrives with three steaming hot plates of food. For a moment, they’re all mesmerised by their generous portions of bangers and mash. 

‘Heard what?’ Sirius wants to know.

‘About the access road, through Briar’s Wood!’ PC Potter eagerly takes up his knife and fork. ‘They’re bound to get their permit now. Great big piece in the Gazette today, Rookwood spitting fire and brimstone. People will be baying for the forest to be cleared, so Scrimgeour’s bound to just wave it all through. Your brother must be made up.’

Sirius frowns at his peas. ‘Yeah, he will be. D’you think they’re right to do it? Cut down all those ancient trees?’ 

‘You complained to me just the other day that you couldn’t fight your way through that part of the forest!’ Lily raises an eyebrow at him, her green eyes glinting. ‘Imagine how handy a brand new road is going to be!’

\----

If the next day passes as slowly as treacle, the ones that follow are worse. Languishing in the bloody office, Sirius daydreams about his new friend, but Remus doesn’t surface. At one point Jago even makes a pointed remark about Sirius’ long, compulsive walks and extensive bicycle rides in this awful weather. But there’s no trace of Remus, not anywhere. 

‘It’s only been a few days.’ Lily repeats patiently, when over a shared lunch Sirius mentions once again that Young Lupin is still missing. ‘You know where he works, don’t you? Just go and look him up!’

‘Maybe... I’ll come across as too keen. Anyway, his shop’s going to be shut by the time I finish work.’

‘Right.’ She sighs, clearly exasperated. ‘Why are you so stuck on this bloke?’

Sirius shrugs. _Because I really like him_, though true, is unlikely to cut it with PC Evans, who’s heard it all before. And he doesn’t say _Because he might hold the key to what happened to me, to what I am_ – because no living soul can know about any of that, including Lily. If only Sirius hadn’t been so reluctant to actually bloody ask him when he had the chance! He has been rehearsing it in his mind, how he was going to let Remus in on the fact that he knows. That Remus’ strange otherness is something they probably have in common.

Instead, he returns, unhappily, to the dreaded office, where the only thing to cheer him is Regulus and Rowle standing together talking just outside the grand entrance, and looking decidedly put out. The ever present Snyde is at a slight distance, clutching a clipboard and eyeing Sirius like a lizard.

‘Why so glum, brother mine?’ Sirius joins them, if only to irritate them further. Perhaps their devious plans have failed, after all.

‘Sabotage,’ Rowle grunts. ‘All the machinery we’ve laid on for the new road is buggered. Excavators, loaders, steamrollers - as good as brand new, most of it! In perfect working order only yesterday! Mechanics are down there, but can’t seem to find the fault. It’s not looking good.’ 

‘Aren’t you still waiting for a decision from the council?’ Sirius asks amicably, and Regulus rolls his eyes.

‘We’re starting on our own land,’ he says pompously, making the most of his role as the grand landowner he is, ‘where we can do as we please. I bet you it’s to do with that twerp who came bothering us the other day, banging on about ancient woodland and so on. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was behind this. Do we know who he is?’

Rowle nods grimly. ‘Lucan, or something. Rookwood says he’s contacted someone at his paper as well. Gave him short shrift, of course. Desperate to cause trouble. Last thing we need, especially these days.’

‘I might know him, actually,’ Sirius chimes in. ‘I could talk to him. Now, if you like?’ 

Regulus turns his haughty gaze onto him. ‘How do you...? Better not ask. Fine, yes. Go. Find out if it was him, and how to fix it. Feel free to knock some sense into him.’

‘Right,’ Sirius says briskly. ‘Be a lot quicker if I borrowed his motor.’ He grins at Snyde, who gives him a dirty look.

‘Yes, of course.’ Regulus addresses his secretary with a lazy wave of his hand. ‘Give him the keys, will you?’

\---

Sirius hasn’t driven in a while, so it takes him some time to get used to Snyde’s sleek grey Talbot. It’s raining again, and he steers the car carefully along the empty, streaming roads. Once he gets into the forest, it’s so dark he switches on the headlamps.

Mud spatters up the sides of the car as he turns into the old logging road. There it is, all the heavy equipment lined up in a row. He gets out to investigate. In the beam of the headlights, the machines make strangely angled shapes, frozen in the rain. The mechanic’s obviously long gone home. Sirius isn’t sure what he expected to find out here, some trace perhaps, or the remnant of a scent? There’s nothing here, of course, just earth and sludge, metal and motor oil.

Back in the car, he reverses down to the Forest Road, and follows it all the way to the turn off towards Hexham. He drives through several villages, past fields and small farms under a heavy sky, keeping an eye out when he approaches Wood End. It’s nothing but a scattering of houses along the road, right at the edge of the forest. Then he spots it - a shop front reading _L. Lupin, Cabinet Makers and Joiners_. The building is dark, the windows shuttered.

Still, Sirius parks the car and walks up to the shop. Peering through the slats in the shutters, he can just make out a large work bench, a lathe, clamps and a vise. There’s a wall hung with a myriad of tools, a table stacked with tins of polish. Boards and pieces of timber lean in one corner, a sideboard, a few chairs, a finely turned table, stand to one side, and there are other bits of furniture in various stages of completion. And covering absolutely everything, a thick layer of dust.

Stunned, and not a little confused, Sirius visits the bakery two doors down.

At his question, the shop girl’s bright smile turns thoughtful. ‘Lupins? The Joiners? That place’s always been shut up, ever since I can remember.’ 

‘What about the son, Remus, d’you ever see him?’ Sirius describes him as best he can, but to no avail. Maybe she’s not quite with it, Sirius wonders. But, considering the dusty, deserted workshop, it’s much more likely that it’s Remus who’s been having him on.

The rain begins to let up. It’s still only afternoon, but an early moon rises round and pale behind fast moving clouds. Shivering in his damp coat, Sirius drives back to the steelworks, scowling at the road ahead.

\---

Later that evening, he reluctantly cycles into Blightmore and trudges across boggy grass, looking for Lily and James. Piled up in the centre of the green is a massive structure of logs, boards and pallets along with other wooden junk. Some local dignitary or other pokes around the bottom with a burning torch, until with a whoosh the whole thing bursts into flame. It’s a huge blaze, sparks shooting in all directions. He weaves through the throng, past the stalls selling hot drinks, roasted chestnuts, and toffee apples, and stops briefly to purchase a mug of mulled cider. 

While he’s queueing under a string of coloured lights, familiar faces recognise him. Arthur Weasley greets him warmly, Marlene McKinnon winks at him, Alastor Moody gives him a brisk nod. With a steaming mug of spiced cider in hand, Sirius retreats into the dancing shadows, rounding the crowd at a distance from the fire, while keeping a lookout for PC Evans and her beau. The smoke burns in his throat and stings his eyes, and it obscures a million scents into one flat, muddy blur. 

When he locates Lily, and soon after James, he’s surprised to find them both in uniform. 

‘No rest for the wicked.’ Lily explains with a sigh. ‘We’re on patrol all night, instructions from on high. The entire constabulary. McGonagall is furious!’

‘We’re keeping the peace, is the idea,’ says James. ‘Giving people a false sense of security that they won’t be pounced on, dragged off and devoured tonight.’

‘Right.’ Sirius grins, before taking a sip and burning his tongue. ‘Have you made any progress on that front? Made any arrests?’ 

‘Not a dickie bird. Not that you’ve heard it from me.’

Lily huddles closer. ‘But we’ve had your brother on the phone earlier, making wild accusations against your friend Remus Lupin. Criminal damage, apparently, of forestry equipment...’

Sirius shakes his head. ‘It’s diggers and things, because they’re already starting on the road. Getting ready to clear the old forest as well, I’d wager, as soon as the permit comes in.’ The smoke is making him wince. ‘And as for Remus Lupin, only this afternoon Reg as good as instructed me to rough him up a little.’ 

She looks at him with wide eyes. ‘Did you find him, then?’

‘Not exactly... I did actually take a look at the workshop on the Hexham road. The place was all shut up, has been for years, apparently. Maybe they’ve moved. But to be honest, I’m glad you have actually met him, otherwise I’d think I’ve been imagining things.’

Regulus parades through the crowd, looking splendid in an elegant fur coat, Malfoy and Scrimgeour on either side of him, and the rest of his cronies following close behind. They’re smiling, pressing the flesh, looking immensely pleased with themselves.

‘Look at them.’ Sirius doesn’t hide his disgust. ‘Planned it all meticulously, exploiting people’s fears of the old forest for their own profit, and they’ll get their way in the end.’

‘Sure, that’s one way of looking at it.’ Lily says. ‘Can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind. But it’s absurd. You don’t seriously believe any of them would stoop so low as to-’ 

Sirius shrugs. ‘I’d keep a close eye on them if I were you.’ 

‘We’d better keep moving,’ James reminds Lily, and the three of them continue to round the fire. The gentle breeze turns, pushing the smoke the other way. When the two police constables stop to break up a raucous argument, Sirius stands back, melting into the darkness away from the fire. Glancing towards the forest, he notices a small flicker of light among the trees. Curious, he begins to walk towards it, and there is the flicker again. Someone striking a match, he realises, or using a lighter. Slowing his step, he notices something else. A scent, faint but distinct enough. Tasting the air, he ditches the warm mug of wafting apple and spices, in order to pursue this other, alluring trail.

Remus must be around here somewhere, or perhaps he’s just passed through? Sirius follows his nose, towards the edge of the black, looming forest, and into the trees. There is someone there. 

He picks up the smell of Regulus’ private secretary’s cloying aftershave, car exhaust, and tobacco smoke before he spots the glowing orange tip of what must be Snyde’s cigarette. As Sirius passes him quietly at a little distance, the cigarette is flung to the ground. 

Snyde audibly clears his throat, hawks and spits, and strolls off towards the green. Silhouetted against the light from the fire, he breaks into a run, howling like a wounded animal.

Perplexed, Sirius stares after him. There are cries of ‘help’ and ‘attack’ over the general bustle, and raised voices starting to clamour. Sirius hesitates only for a moment before he walks on. 

In the darkness of the trees, everything smells brighter, clearer, forming a vivid picture in his mind. Sirius moves confidently, his steps light and quick, through a rich world of damp bark, of sharp green ferns in a boggy ditch, oniony wood avens and spiky juniper, a fox hole, and the all pervasive mulch and wet earth. And above it, pulling him along, that other scent, familiar and seductive. 

He hears James Potter's voice booming, imploring everyone to keep calm, but no one seems to heed it - there’s what sounds like a roar of anger. Sirius speeds up. Behind him in the distance, people come charging at the forest. Worse than that, they’re brandishing bits of burning wood, their flickering makeshift torches lighting up the canopy.

Running now, Sirius stumbles over a root. He ducks, and lunges forward. On all fours, he’s a lot faster - like an arrow, let loose. Flying through the trees, bounding along. Charging through a towering thicket of thorns, he yelps at the crack of a gunshot in the distance, then lets out a bark for the sheer hell of it. 

He’s lost track of where exactly he is, but knows he’s close, almost there. The scent is much stronger here, intense and heady, with an edge of danger. In a moonlit clearing, he comes across smudged markers left by other creatures. Wild boars, and even a bear, but they’re old, too vague to worry about. Remus has been here very recently, though. And something else... there’s more to it than that. Keeping his nose to the ground, he’s trying to work out what it is, when a loud, sustained howl cuts right through him.

It’s a wolf. Large and grey, staring him down. As it comes scampering towards him, Sirius is strangely unafraid. He’s fairly hefty himself, for one thing - a big black dog, with sharp teeth. And this isn’t an enemy, but someone familiar. He barks a greeting, wagging his tail. The wolf stops suddenly, huffing in frustration, loping first left and then right as though along an invisible fence. 

Sirius approaches slowly. There is something there, a crackling in the air, a vague sort of shimmer. The wolf tries to charge at him again, but is held back. Sirius jogs along the perimeter of the strange barrier, spanning a large circle of trees, the wolf following on the inside. Then, pushing his nose against it, Sirius simply passes through. The wolf snarls briefly, but doesn’t attack. They sniff around each other curiously. 

It’s Remus, Sirius knows. The wolf is Remus. They nudge and nip at each other, and wrestle a little. The wolf is all over Sirius, as though he can’t believe he’s real. They play for a while, chasing each other and wrestling some more, stalking shrews and gambolling about the place. They’re resting on a mossy patch when the wolf twitches, jumps to his feet and howls again. He rears up and collapses, writhing as though in great pain, whining and whimpering. Sirius watches in growing consternation as the wolf’s limbs jerk and distort. He’s changing, reshaping himself gradually, until his limbs are much longer, his snout has receded and his tail shrunk to nothing, and he lies there curled up, fur-less, and shivering.

Sirius tries to rouse human Remus, who is dead to the world. Pacing around him, the dog eventually changes back into his human shape. He takes off his coat and carefully drapes it over Remus. Considering his options, he shifts again, huddles against the sleeping man, and closes his eyes.

He wakes in the grey morning light, shivering with cold. His limbs are stiff, his trousers are soaked with mud, and what on earth is he doing here?

Next to him, Remus is softly snoring, wrapped in Sirius’ heavy coat. Beneath it, Sirius establishes by lifting a lapel, he is still naked. And ice cold.

‘Remus!’ Sirius calls out, shaking him by the shoulder, then urgently patting his cheek. ‘Wake up! You’ll freeze to death!’

Blinking, Remus comes to slowly. His dishevelled hair, full of mud and dead leaves, sticks to his ashen forehead, his blue tinged lips form indistinct words. Even so, Sirius thinks he’s gorgeous. When Remus’ eyes open and focus on Sirius, he sits up with a jolt, clearly horrified.

‘What happened?’ he croaks. ‘Why - what did you - what are you doing here?’

‘It’s all right,’ Sirius reassures him, ‘we just fell asleep, after... you know.’

‘After _what?’_ Remus hisses sharply.

‘Once you’d changed back. Into a person. You were out like a light.’

Remus stares at him with a ferocity that would be scary, if Sirius hadn’t just encountered a full blown wolf. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Sirius says honestly. ‘I went looking for you. Then I found you.’

‘And I didn’t - attack you?’

‘No. But I wasn’t fully human either. Look.’ Sirius swallows hard, and shifts.

Gaping at him, Remus is utterly stunned. He stretches out a tentative hand and touches, then ruffles Sirius’ shaggy black coat. Sirius the dog can’t resist nuzzling Remus a little, before stepping back and swiftly shifting again.

‘We’ll need to move quickly, and get out of this cold,’ he says. ‘We’re miles from anywhere... And I can hear your teeth chattering.’

As though in a daze, Remus nods and stiffly stumbles to his feet, shyly turning away as he unwraps and properly slips into Sirius’ heavy coat. 

‘Come on, then. This way,’ he says, heading across the clearing.

They walk in silence. It’s too bloody early, and too cold to think. Remus resembles a sleepwalker, ambling along in nothing but a coat, barefoot on the freezing ground. When they come to a stone arch, a lone remnant of the ruin Sirius remembers coming across as a child, Remus suddenly takes his hand. 

He steps through the arch, briskly pulling Sirius along behind him. Before Sirius can protest, he is stunned into silence. On the other side, the same lone arch belongs to a wall enclosing a substantial garden, and a tall, crooked cottage covered in creepers. Remus leads on to the front door, which he simply pushes open without a key, and they enter the house. 

In the hall, Remus picks up his thin stick from a side table, then hesitates. 

‘Go on,’ Sirius says gently. ‘Use it.’ He nods encouragingly as Remus stares at him with wide eyes. ‘It’s fine. I know about that, too.’

Glancing down at his wand again, Remus shrugs, and flicks his wrist, murmuring something. 

Heat envelops Sirius instantly, like a warm embrace. ‘That’s better,’ he grins, delighted.

There is even more magic. A hot cup of tea, which he sips while Remus has a quick wash, followed by a fresh hot, luxuriant bath for Sirius. And a large, comfortable bed to collapse into after, in which Sirius drops off almost at once, only barely aware of Remus getting in on the other side. 

—-

He drifts into consciousness slowly, languorously stretching his limbs, comfortably nestling against the warm body beside him. Still half lost in a dream, they move together, turning and intertwining, in an effort to be even closer, ever more comfortable.

When eventually they open their eyes, they share a sleepy smile, then a languid kiss. They explore each other slowly, at leisure. Sirius wonders if he’s still dreaming, getting to touch and taste this gorgeous man. It’s all too much and not enough. Later, when they’re both panting, spent, overwhelmed by pleasure, Remus gathers him into a firm embrace, and they drift back off to sleep.

They wake to more of the same, unable to keep their hands off each other. There is something between them, beyond bringing each other off in various delicious ways - an understanding, perhaps. A deep sort of intimacy, even though Remus is still as good as a stranger. It’s something he’s not felt before. 

‘You know I’ll never be able to leave now,’ he says when they’re dozing a little, temporarily sated.

‘No one is going to make you,’ Remus smiles, yawning comfortably. ‘You’re a free man, Sirius Black. No one can make you do anything.’

‘You probably could...’

‘And I might do, in a bit.’ Remus grins, before turning thoughtful. ‘How did you learn to do it, then? Turn into a dog, I mean?’ 

‘I didn’t learn it. It was forced upon me. By someone with a stick like yours -’

‘A wand?’

‘Yeah. I must’ve been thirteen. I was trespassing on her land, at least that’s what she claimed. There’d been some dispute over it with my family. When she saw who I was, she said she had a message for my father. And then she cursed me.’

‘She turned you into a dog?’

‘It was awful.’ Sirius winces at the memory. ‘I was so ashamed, hiding out in the woods, convinced I was going to stay a dog for life. Back then, our gamekeepers used to shoot stray dogs as a matter of routine. I cried like a baby when I finally turned human again. Not long after, I realised that I’d shift again, if I wasn’t careful. It was terrifying, until I learned to control it.’ 

Remus sits up. ‘Do you remember what she looked like?’

‘Course! I had nightmares about her for years.’ Trying to describe her, he realises that it’s her fury he remembers more than anything else. 

‘Hang on.’ Remus jumps out of bed and retrieves a framed photograph from a bookcase. ‘Is this her?’

Sirius stares at the picture of a smiling woman in a spotty dress. ‘Bloody hell,’ he manages, feeling winded. ‘Is that-’

‘My mother, yeah. I thought it might have been her, she could have a bit of a temper, and she was very protective...’ Remus’ voice trails off, and their eyes meet. ‘I’m sorry she did that to you.’

‘That’s all right.’ Sirius mumbles, stunned. He shakily hands Remus the photograph. ‘Is there an antidote?’

Shaking his head solemnly, Remus gets back under the covers. ‘Not as far as I know. That sort of thing is irreversible. And believe me, I’ve looked into it… As have you, I’m sure! That’s your subject, isn’t it? What did you find out in the course of your research?’

‘It was. But I’ve never - not my own condition.’ Suddenly Sirius is finding it quite hard to breathe. ‘Couldn’t, you know. No one knows about it, not even Lily, or my own family. It would’ve been too dangerous. And anyway, I was much happier ignoring it altogether. How about you?’ He reaches out and touches a long, thin scar on Remus’ chest, tracing it down to a patch of silvery skin at his waist. ‘So the old stories are true after all - the full moon, all that? Did another wolf bite you?’ 

Remus nods, smiling wistfully. ‘Yes, when I was a child. He was passing through, werewolves tend to keep moving. Years later, after I almost attacked someone, we moved away, too. I decided to come back here after my father died, I was curious about the old place. I’m not that dangerous anymore, now that my potion making friend supplies me with a special medicine. Actually,’ he turns to face Sirius, ‘you could study me! You might win the Nobel Prize in Physiology for your groundbreaking work on lycanthropy.’ 

‘I would love to.’ Sirius moves a bit closer. ‘Only I’ve given it all up to follow my dream of becoming a glorified office boy.’

‘You could always carry on somewhere else?’ He lets Sirius pull him into a sultry kiss, before continuing, undeterred. ‘You could go anywhere at all. Finding yourself a laboratory should be easy enough – or you could set one up? You’re not exactly strapped for cash.’

Sirius makes a vague sound, preferring to kiss him again.

Some time after noon, they manage to get up. Remus makes them tea and poached eggs in his ramshackle kitchen, without any apparent need for gas or electricity.

‘About this wand of yours,’ Sirius asks between bits of toast. ‘How exactly does it work?’

‘Try it!’ Remus nonchalantly passes him the wooden baton. ‘It doesn’t take much, really. But you do need to have a natural ability. Which of course you might.’

Sirius turns it in his hands. It’s a beautiful object, with an elegantly carved handle, and a tapered tip. ‘Did you make it yourself?’

‘Oh no,’ Remus smiles. ‘You need a specialist, there’s much more to them than meets the eye. Here, try this.’ He leans over and guides Sirius’ hand into a simple flicking movement. ‘And now say _Wingardium Leviosa!_’

To his amazement, one of the dainty, mismatched teacups floats up into the air, swaying slightly and dribbling tea onto the table. Still guiding his hand, Remus gets the tea cup to gently land again.

Sirius gives it a try on his own, and then several more, but somehow he only manages to knock the tea cup off the table so it smashes on the floor. 

He sheepishly passes the wand back to Remus with an apology, but Remus looks impressed. ‘You might have something there,’ he says, flicking his wand at the shards, which immediately reassemble themselves into a cup. ‘You did make it move!’ 

Sirius isn’t convinced, unsure if perhaps he might’ve accidentally used his elbow rather than any innate powers. ‘How does it _work?’_ he asks again, more eagerly. ‘And why haven’t we all got wands? Why is there a general consensus that magic isn’t real, if it so blatantly does exist?’

Remus smiles at him. ‘It’s an inherited trait, and not very common at all. Wands only channel a person’s magical ability, and make it easier to direct. Those of us who have it are bound by law to keep it secret from the public at large, in order to avoid conflict and persecution. The same goes for lycanthropy. And being a shapeshifter.’

‘Will you get into trouble for telling me about it?’

‘I doubt it…’ Remus shrugs. ‘Being an animagus - which is what you are - you were already affected.’

Nodding, Sirius tries to get his head around the notion of an entire secret branch of - particle physics, probably? Hitherto unexplored by ordinary science.

‘Why did they throw you out of university?’ Remus asks quietly.

It takes Sirius a moment to answer. ‘I was ratted out, by someone I mistook for a friend. Peter resented my success, I think. Kept on at me for “taking liberties,” as he called it, because I chose not to hide my private life. Said I’d always had it too easy. To be fair, I never did take him seriously, which must’ve annoyed him.  
‘When I won an important research grant he’d been after, Peter turned vicious. He passed several personal letters to the dean as evidence of my deviant activities. Two of them he’d nicked from my rooms, and forged the rest. He must’ve planned the whole thing meticulously, knowing that there’d already been much whispering in certain quarters. Given my “unfortunate proclivities,” and “disreputable behaviour,” they were only too glad to see the back of me. They spared me an official investigation so they’d spare the College the scandal.’

‘You didn’t contest it?’

Sirius sighs wearily. ‘I should have. But Peter also accused me of keeping a dog in my rooms. Only a minor misdemeanour, punishable by a fine, but at the time I thought he was letting me know that he knew about me. There can’t have been more than one or two moments when I - slipped. Peter couldn’t have witnessed anything. But he made me paranoid, and I couldn’t bear it. So I conceded.’

Remus shakes his head, frowning at his plate. ‘I’m sorry, Sirius. My mother never should’ve cursed you... But It must’ve been a mistake on her part, or a powerful accident.’ He looks up to meet Sirius’ gaze. ‘Because in the Wizarding world - amongst magical people - there’s no shame in being what you are. On the contrary, it’s very difficult to do, and a great achievement.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. They discriminate wildly against werewolves of course. But being an animagus is very desirable. You should be proud.’

When Sirius does leave, late in the afternoon, the light is already low. Remus walks with him through the gate, which once again becomes a lone stone arch, a remnant of a ruin in a remote part of the forest. They share a long kiss, before Remus points him in the right direction. 

Under the dripping canopy of ancient trees, he saunters along across the dead leaves, skips over withered logs, breezes through towering thorn bushes that easily let him pass. It’s very cold, but Sirius doesn’t mind it. His step is quick, he’s feeling both content and excited. Close to the old stone marker, the faint smell of cold woodsmoke gets stronger. The late sunlight slants through the trees. The forest has never looked more beautiful. 

—-

A week later.

Sirius leaves the shadowy woods with its wealth of interesting smells, trots along the road and speeds up as he comes into the village. A big orange cat gives him a funny look, and the postman freezes as the large black dog runs past. It’s the strangest feeling, being seen out and about like this, being seen and not recognised.

Charging across the green, he makes straight for the lonely bench under the large apple tree. Perched on that bench is a man smoking a cigarette. He’s laughing with delight, leaning forward and stretching out a welcoming hand. Sirius just about manages to stop in time, almost crashing into Remus. Huffing excitedly, he licks his hand, his face, enjoying the sensation of hands ruffling his coat. Then he’s off again, into a copse of trees, to change.

‘Nice suit!’ Remus greets him with a smile when he walks up to the bench in his human form. ‘How did it go?’ 

‘All right. Sorry I’m late. There was a lot of press, had to escape through a back door...’ Sirius grins. ‘Never thought I’d ever - and not in broad daylight.’

‘I can imagine. How did it feel?’

‘Decidedly odd. But not in a bad way.’

‘And the reading of the will…?’

‘Very - unexpected.’ Sirius takes a seat next to him on the bench, loosening his tie a little. ‘Turns out I’ve not been disinherited at all, on the contrary. She must've written it a long time ago, back when she still loved tradition more than she disapproved of me, because she went with primogeniture. Meaning that, as the firstborn, I’m to get the lot.’

Remus’ chin drops in disbelief.

‘Regulus was furious, of course, insisted she’d kept mentioning a new will, but Jago absolutely denies one was ever drawn up. I had to instruct the solicitors, that’s why it took so long. My brother will get his fair share, and more, pending certain conditions – he can have the run of the business, and the land, as long as he doesn’t damage the forest. I’ll be a silent partner for now, keeping an eye on him.’

Shooting Remus a look, he continues nervously. ‘I’ve given him my notice, too. Not planning to set foot in that place again.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Because I’m going to find somewhere to continue my research. I’ve already sent off a few enquiring letters.’

‘That’s brilliant!’ Remus beams at him, looking genuinely excited.

‘Yeah,’ Sirius nods, swallowing hard. ‘The thing is.’ Staring at his hands, he’s feeling weirdly jittery, unsure how to get out his big, all consuming question. It’s too soon. They’ve barely known each other for five minutes. But it’s too important. ‘Well,’ he begins awkwardly. 

‘Would you mind if I came with you?’ Remus asks quietly. ‘It would save you finding another lycanthrope to experiment on.’

Sirius is stunned. ‘Would you want to? I thought - you’re settled here, aren’t you?’

‘I can be settled anywhere.’ Remus shrugs. ‘I might well be more settled where you are.’ 

Elated, Sirius takes his hand. ‘In that case - yes. Please come with me? I wasn’t sure how to ask.’

They kiss briefly. Across the green, PC Evans walks someone to the police car. Spotting the two young men on the bench, she gives them a cheery wave.

‘I’ll miss her,’ Sirius says wistfully. ‘By the way, they charged Snyde yesterday, with inciting public unrest. They couldn’t prove any greater conspiracy, so the others will get off scot-free.’

‘Perhaps they’ll have learned their lesson?’ Remus gets to his feet. ‘And having to kowtow to you might be ample punishment... Pub?’

‘Let’s go to yours? I’ve had enough of people.’ Sirius gets up, too. 

‘I can’t believe you got the lot,’ Remus says.

‘I know.' Sirius grins. 'Good old Jago, eh?’ Reaching out, he takes Remus’ hand and squeezes it. ‘Come on then.’


End file.
